


The Birth of a Prince

by Rickylee



Series: The Gaean Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work, Original Works
Genre: Graphic Descirptions of a Birth, Mild Language, Modern Fantasy, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickylee/pseuds/Rickylee
Summary: The Queen, Ezra, travels to the Antarctic lands of the Stripple's, ten months pregnant, to give a royal visit for a mysterious reason. On the way to the city, Ezra becomes angry and storms away in a fit just as  a blizzard appears from nowhere and Ezra is forced to find shelter on their own. In labor and lost in the snow, the Queen begins to worry about the life of their unborn child.Meanwhile the Imperial Queen's Guard is hot on their Queen's tail. Milo finds assassins and deals with them while coming to realize the predicate of his beloved friend.





	1. A Cold Day in Penguin Hell

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE MOVING ON THANKS
> 
> They call themselves "Gaeans" or "Children of Gaea". Completely hermaphroditic having an internal penis that when aroused will emerge full length and hard, their vaginal area doesn’t have a labia or clit like humans do (though the area may get swollen when aroused). They have pubic hair in the same places as humans. If one looked at a naked Gaean on wouldn’t see anything that screams out “sex organ”. There's a small dented area where a human penis would be, that when aroused will become a bump that can be “played” w (patient, gentle partners or self can even get a finger or 2 inside) until the tip of the penis comes out followed by the full length not long after. The penis itself has no extra skin nor does it have the iconic mushroom head of primates. They don’t grow breasts @ puberty (usually depends on how much human blood they have). Breasts don’t usually grow unless they’re pregnant. Breasts can go away w hormone therapy/time. They can’t grow facial hair; the Gaean’s that do have more than half human blood.
> 
> They can’t reproduce w themselves nor can they reproduce w their siblings or other closely related family members. That isn’t to say it’s impossible, siblings have been known to reproduce w each other; in most cases the siblings shared only one parent. Parents have also been known to reproduce w children. It's impossible for identical twins.
> 
> Gaeans also menstruate as humans do, only less frequently. Once every 6 months, they coincide w their births (example: if one is born in July, their blood time would b in that month and again 6 months later in December). They bleed for as long as humans do. Gaeans also go through a period of heats and ruts a day after their menstruation has finished. Heats happen near the birthday, and are just when the vagina is more lubricated than usual and the womb is most fertile. Body temp may rise slightly at this time. Ruts happen 6 months later and is when more testosterone is produced. This enables the penis to be more active and produce more sperm. Bc the testes are situated inside the body (small tumor like growths on top of ovaries), body temp will lower to help the production of sperm during that time. Both times last for about a week and have little impact on daily life much like menstruation in humans.
> 
> Tails are prehensile, about 2/3 their body length (can be shorter or longer) and strong enough to lift their own weight. The base of the tail (where it meets spine) is abt the thickness of the person’s wrist while the tip is abt the thickness of their two fingers. @ the ends of their tails is a bone spur that can detach (and thrown w great accuracy) it's sheathed like a cat’s claw. Some people are venomous. Tails are used for communication.
> 
> Gaean's average height is 5’9”. Most average height range is 5’-6’4”. Anyone taller than 6’3” is uncommon. Torsos may appear slightly longer than humans, that’s bc they have an extra pair of ribs; this is hardly noticeable.
> 
> Gaeans don’t cry emotional tears, their tear ducts don’t work that way. Those that do cry w emotion are more likely to have a human as a close ancestor (parent/grandparent/great-grandparent). Half humans will most likely have human toes and cry tears. They can cry tears of physical pain, usually it's in cases of extreme pain.
> 
> Gaeans can smell pheromones. Rarely outside their own species. They don't go nuts if they smell someone in heat/rut, but they can tell. They can tell when someone is pregnant by the way their scent changes. Fear and distress can be smelled, as well as any obvious emotions that can change a person’s scent. Strangers wouldn’t really be able to tell the difference, close friends/family that know their scent notices the “personal” scent changes.
> 
> They’re skin color and energy color don’t always match. They come in every color of the rainbow, though some colors are rarer than others. Red=common, blue=very common, green=common, purple=uncommon, pink=very common, brown=common, orange=very rare, yellow=rare (this skin color is considered bad luck and a curse so most infants born of this color get left out to die), black=rare, white=extinct.
> 
> Most of the species appears androgynous. The more human blood a Gaean has, the more likely they will end up with one sex/appear as either feminine or masculine.
> 
> They age slightly slower than humans (their infanthood is about a year or two longer. They don't generally reach puberty till about 16-20). They can live for thousands of years & can be killed (if they got like stabbed or catch a deadly disease). Other than that, they're functionally immortal. They stop aging around 30-40. They can continue to age if they wish to die, they do this by releasing their cosmic energy and distributing toward their blood line, usually their children or sibling's children if they have none of their own.

“Are you sure you want to make this trip so close to the birthing date, Ezra? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re about to burst. You can hardly walk more than a few steps without a dizzy spell.” Captain Ser Milo Ren said gently to the Queen, him having a short fuse since the swelling of his belly. “It’s not too late to turn back home.”

Ezra crossed his arms with a frown. Milo noticed the pinched face as he did. The Queen had been complaining – in passing, never directly – of sore breasts for months now.

“I’ve spoken with my physician. I should be fine; I’m not due for another two weeks and the Stripple lands aren’t far now.” Ezra sighed, dropping his arms when he realized his guard didn’t look convinced. Ser Ren’s lips turned down as his head tilted and dark bottle green eyes squinted. “Look, if things go as planned we should be back in the capitol before the birth date. And if not, the birthing can happen here in this frozen wasteland the Stripple’s call home.”

Milo sighed defeated. He knew more than anyone how stubborn their Queen could be. “Very well, your majesty. I’ll get our ride.” The wind ruffled Milo’s straight black hair, his azure complexion darkest where the freezing winds made contact. Ezra’s sure that if he looked close enough, a pink flush would undermine the blue.

Ezra shivered. He’d rather not be there, in the Antarctic wilderness days from any sort of civilization, but the Stripple’s were the last noble house to visit before going home and facing the betrayal that awaited for him. _'How could she? After decades of marriage. Of false positives and waning hope renewed with a double pregnancy. Mine and hers, I should be happy. But I did not sire that child, I’m sure of it.’_

A blast of freezing sea air hit him square in the face scattering his troubling thoughts.

Perhaps Turquoise should have been the first of his nobles to visit… the season was all wrong to be there, the Antarctic falls were a terrible thing. They’re unpredictable and unstable, especially so close to the sea; add the perpetual twilight that time of year brought, messing with their senses, well, there’s no wonder why the Stripple’s are left to themselves.

Winter was coming and Ezra was starting to regret the trip.

“I’d rather have you in a carriage.” Milo commented mostly to himself as he led a hippogryph toward him.

The wind calmed, but who knew how long that would last?

The hippogryph shook itself like a soaked dog. Piles of snow that had collected on its grey feathers fluttered away with the wind.

“I’m not the one who broke it.” Ezra muttered back.

Getting any type of motorized transportation is too unreliable. Too many things could go wrong: frozen engines, flat tire, a break down, or running out of fuel.

At least the hippogryphs could take extreme weather conditions, and won’t stop working if they ran out of fuel. Southern snow was just an inconvenience to them. The promise of food and warm stables was enough incentive to keep them going. And if things got much worse, the beasts would make excellent emergency dinners.

Though the Queen would never eat the creature that lives on the Anaya family seal. A proud, and resilient creature, doing no harm but taking no shit.

So, sleds and hippogryphs would help them cross the ice.

“Well, get on your majesty.” His guard made a theatrical sweeping gesture for Ezra to get on the saddle.

Ezra pulled an annoyed face and scoffed, “I’ll tell you a secret, my dearest friend. I’m pregnant.”

Milo, bewildered, pointedly stared at a swollen belly partially hidden under heavy winter clothing, “I can see that.” His was tone dry and confused.

“Alright, I’ll tell you another secret.” Ezra took a deep breath, his lungs froze. “There’s no way in the infinite hells is my fat ass going to be able to get on that creature.” The Queen yanked his fallen fur covered hood back onto his head, immediately getting built up snow tumbling down the back of his neck.

Milo chewed on his lip, cracked and dry from the harsh weather. He knew getting Ezra in, on, and out of things had become somewhat of an obstacle since his pregnancy became a physical burden, but Ezra had hardly complained and Milo was always too scared to mention it.

“Here.” Milo got a sudden idea. He pulled the reins he still held down a bit, the hippogryph understood and got to its knees. Then Milo let go of the reins while Ezra watched him swing a leg over the gryph and scoot to the back of the saddle. Once settled he patted the front of the saddle, “Here.” He repeated.

“What?” Ezra waddled a few steps closer. “This doesn’t solve the problem Milo; I can’t sit on the saddle like you can.” _'Not comfortably at least.'_

“Sit side saddle, like a damsel in distress.” Milo made a come here gesture with one arm while patting the saddle with the other.

“Excuse me?”

“Just come here.” Milo exasperated.

Ezra gave up and stomped to the hippogryph. “Now what?”

“Turn around and slide up- like you’re getting on a high ledge.”

“Milo, this is ridiculous- hey!” Ezra squealed as Ser Ren took him by the armpits and helped him slide into place.

Ezra clung to his friend as Milo kicked his heels into their ride so it could get out of the snow. “Milo!” a long tail crushingly wrapped around Milo’s waist.

“Hold onto me, scoot further- there.” Milo helped him readjust till the Queen is effectively sitting as comfortably as possible sitting side saddle, on a saddle built for one, in the freezing cold, and heavy with child.

“Just don’t let me fall.” Ezra pouted, head on his friend’s shoulder, arms and tail wrapped tightly around Milo’s torso.

“Never my Queen, never.” Milo promised, but Ezra was snoring and so missed the promise.

Milo sighed defeated.

Ezra had had several of those strange bouts of narcolepsy since becoming pregnant. Something about power drain, the child leeching energy from the mother as it grows. The stronger in power the mother is the harsher the pregnancy is (or so they say).

Doctor Strauss, Ezra’s primary physician, ensured that the energy drains are nothing to worry about. That it’s natural to feel vulnerable and weak. With modern medicine the chances of miscarriage and death during birthing had dropped in the last six hundred years. Going from one in twenty-five deaths to one in two-hundred.

Milo would just feel more comfortable if his Queen were home. Where it was safe and warm. Or at least in a town. A hovel, _anywhere_ , as long as it was indoors and warm. Not three days from any people, freezing their tails off with penguins their only company for miles.

But alas, they go as their Queen commands.

“Ser Ren?” said a young sounding person. “The party is ready to leave for the Stripple estate.”

Milo nodded down at them, “Where is Helga?” Milo searched around, not seeing his friend.

“Making a call to his mate Ser. There won’t be any way to contact anyone off the continent till we get to the next town.” Through the growing gloom of the twilight and the shadows of the guard’s hood, Milo could see pastel green skin.

 _'This must be our guide through the icy wastelands.'_ Milo thought.

The Antarctic people were known for their light colors, not like the capitol people who are all vibrant and several shades darker.

“Anything else?” Milo cursed this penguin hell. Been there a few hours and already he thought his tail had the beginning signs of frostbite.

“A storm is coming, it won’t arrive till tomorrow, but you can never know. Its best we get away from the coast, can hardly tell if we’re on solid ground or ice. It could break away in the storm.” The wind blew away the guide’s hood, revealing pale eyes and orange hair. “A few of your party has decided to go home.”

“That’s to be expected, we’re not exactly here during the vacation season. Tell the rest to get ready to leave inland.”

The guide bowed their head and headed off.

Milo made sure they were both secure enough for their ride before clucking the hippogryph into motion.

*****     ***     ***     ***     ***     *****

“Ezra. Ezra wake up.” Milo shook him gently. “We’re making camp.”

Ezra’s exhausted body protests, but his eyes open anyway. “I fell asleep?”

“As soon as you settled, yes.”

“Oh.” He tried not to resent the amusement in Milo’s voice. “Well, help me down then.” He said, unwinding his frozen arms from Milo’s torso. His tail took a bit more convincing than his arms did.

Before Milo could get the hippogryph back on its knees, the Queen slid off gracelessly, nearly taking Milo down with him.

“Oof!” Ezra doubled over. He held his belly as his feet sunk several inches into the snow, feeling rather foolish that he’d underestimated the height of the creature.

“Are you alright?” the Captain swung his leg over the hippogryph’s head to slide down beside his Queen.

“Fine, fine. My legs are just asleep.” Ezra waved away the concern, already recovering.

“Are you sure?” Milo pressed.

“Yes!” shouted Ezra. He hadn’t meant to shout, not really. It would have just be nice if someone would take his word for once. Ever since the news of his pregnancy had gone out, he’d been treated like a fragile egg. Ready to crack at anytime.

But other than feeling weak and exhausted all day every day, he felt fine.

Then again, Ezra could go on and on about how much pain he was constantly in; how the baby’s kicking caused him to pee a little. How his penis would slip out if he bent over or the baby kicked just right; how bruised and battered his insides felt. How his swollen feet ached, and breasts felt sore and hurt even at the gentlest touch. Clothes itched, and temperature wavered like his moods. Headaches lasted for hours and days.

The list went on forever.

“Sorry, I just- _yes_ I’m fine. Just, find me a place to sit.” Ezra held his forehead, too ashamed about his outburst to look at his friend.

If he’d known this was what it would be like with child, he would have sired. Or adopted. _‘I’m never getting pregnant again_.’

“Of course.” Milo turned away to accomplish the task, feeling abashed.

Ezra exhaled into the freezing air and leaned back against the hippogryph for warmth. “I don’t deserve such good friends.” He whispered to the snowflakes.

The entire maddening journey, Milo had never strayed far from his side. There had even been talk of Milo being the father of his unborn child, _'If only.'_ was the only thing Ezra could think on that subject. _'Let them think that, let his wedded hear and wonder. Let Terra hear what devotion truly is.'_

It had always been that way though. Ever since they were young children and their guardians threw them together because the Crowned Prince needed a companion, and young master Mei Tzu needed a station in life.

Ezra never really understood why Milo changed his name; going from the respected Tzu’s, to his more unknown mother’s name, Ren. Changing Mei to Milo as well.

Something about being upset with his sire. A highly respected general in both theirs' and the human world. Perhaps that was the reason. Milo could never be good enough for his sire; like Ezra could never be good enough for his grandsire – the previous Queen. It was no wonder they were able to grow so close.

Milo had fairly jumped at the chance of leaving palace life for a while; tired of sitting in court guarding him as his council drowned on and on, on matters the Queen had already taken care of; and following him around the palace like a lost pup as Ezra attended his duties as Queen.

It seemed following Ezra around has he traversed their world was a better option than falling asleep standing while the Queen looked over court documents for hours on end. Helga sure appeared to be excited – at least for the first couple of weeks.

Unlike Milo, Helga had a mate and children. A family Ezra noticed Milo didn’t show much interest in gaining, and what Ezra had been trying to gain for decades.

Still, Milo had not brought up the reason for the sudden trip. To everyone else besides the Queen, it was spontaneous and made with little to no warning. Even nobles were surprised at the visits, scrambling to prepare rooms and feasts for the Queen and company. Anxious as the Queen inspected their household – as the Queen had put it. And poor Milo had put up with his chaotic mood swings throughout the months they were abroad. All the trouble of dealing with his Queen without the benefit of a break, a shift change, or a weekend.

They hadn’t been together every waking hour since childhood, where wherever Prince Ezra went little Mei was there too.

 _‘He will ask though, eventually.’_ Milo was only patient for so long and he knew Ezra wouldn't say a peep till he’s asked. The excuse of “I haven’t visited the noble houses in ages” wouldn’t hold for long, and when the time came Milo will demand answers. Answers Ezra hadn’t even faced himself.

“Your Majesty?”

Ezra is startled out of his thoughts by another he doesn’t recognize. “A seat has been found for you.” Without his permission the other person took his wrist and tried to guide him away from the group.

The Queen planted his feet and ripped his arm away. “Where is Milo? Helga? Where are my personal guards?” he demanded. The pitch in his voice rising with each question.

“Your lover is getting you food. The rest are setting up camp.” The stranger’s eyes darted to the others who were too busy setting up camp to notice their exchange.

The Queen’s eyes narrowed to slits as he barreled toward the figure violently poking their chest, “Milo is my dearest friend. _Not_ my lover. Something you would know if you were part of this convoy.” The stranger babbled something but Ezra did not hear over his shouts for his guards. “Milo! Helga!” his shouts are drowned out by the howling wind that had picked up again _. ‘Just my luck.’_

“Your Majesty!” the stranger made another grab, this time more desperate. Ezra’s heated glare made pink stranger take a few steps back.

“Listen here you. I am pregnant. Not stupid. You are not part of this convoy. And you are trying to get me away from my people. People, I may add, who would sooner watch as you choke on your own blood than to give you the benefit of the doubt. So I’d suggest you leave this camp before one of them sniffs you out and brings me your head. Is. That. Clear?” his majesty left the frozen stranger, not caring whether they would head his advice or not.

Vaguely he wondered if he’d over reacted.

The hippogryph that carried him and Milo followed him into the chaos of a camp settling in. He spotted Helga kneeling by a would-be cooking fire. Sticks brought from off the continent were piled mountain style while Helga had his back to the wind so his sizable bulk could protect the infant flame. It probably would have been best if he’d wait for the tent to go up first,

“Helga! Where is Milo? Where is my seat?” Ezra demanded. He inwardly cringed at how childish he sounded and had to restrain himself from stomping a foot in a temper.

“My Queen?” Big cheerful brown eyes looked up at him confused. A gust of wind went by whipping Ezra’s dark hair across his eyes but Helga’s dark brown hair was always cut short, so lay unaffected by the wind. “Milo has been looking for you. Your tent has been put up, there should be a fire going in it now.”

Helga watched as his Queen’s face went from irritation to worry – or something close to worry. “Oh.” He finally said. The creases in the Queen’s face flattened. “There is a stranger among us. They tried to lead me away.”

“I’ll handle it.” Helga promised.

“Ezra! There you are. You weren’t where I left you- is something wrong?” Milo’s coat was missing leaving him in a black, skin tight, long sleeved tunic. There was snow in his hair.

“Nothing. I’m hungry.” Ezra waddled toward the fire. Nothing more than embers now that Helga was not there to protect it.

“Yes, of course. A meal is being prepared right now, in your tent.” Milo steps closer, hiding a shiver and wishing he’d grabbed his coat on the way out of Ezra’s tent. Ezra’s curled black hair is wet from snow and his dark blue complexion is pale from one too many cold blasts to the face. “What about the stranger?”

“You heard that? I sent them away. Helga said he’d deal with it.”

“Ezra-”

“What, Milo? What is it now!?” Ezra rounded on him suddenly angry. Angry and tired of that condescending tone, like he’s a child that had just done something stupid in front of a parent. “Am I not allowed to give orders to my subjects without you now? You are not my mate! You are not Queen’s Consort! You have no authority over me! Keep your mouth shut otherwise!”

Milo’s face transformed from a caring friend, to a flat brick wall. “Of course my Queen.”

Suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, Ezra rushed by a still Milo and toward his tent, hoping the tears that threatened to fall did not do so until he was in the privacy of his tent. _‘Don’t_ ever _let them see you cry. Don’t_ ever _let them see they got to you.’_ his grandsire’s words echoed in his skull as the tears fell. It’s ridiculous. _He_ shouldn’t be the one crying. It should be Milo. After all, Milo is the one that got yelled at.

Though Ezra doubted Milo could cry like he. Most Gaeans didn’t have tear ducts that reacted to emotions. Only those with some human blood did and the Queen’s grandmother was human.

 _‘Oh, All Mother, I messed up. I messed up bad. Why does Milo have to be so caring? Why can’t he be like Helga and not question everything I do?’_ Ezra wailed internally, hands in face, sitting in the warmth of his tent.

“Oh, young one. Ser Ren knows you hadn’t meant it.” The kindly cook said not so helpfully. With dark red hair cut in a bob fashion, round dark green eyes, and sunrise pink skin, the only indication of her age was the kind lines around her eyes. She’d been the royal cook longer than he’d been alive. She was one of the only palace staff comfortable enough to tell the royals as it is. Even his mother shut his mouth when Amis spoke.

Ezra wished she wasn’t in his tent. He’d forgotten that he’d have no privacy on this leg of the journey. Milo and Helga would share his tent and the cook would make his meals in there and then attend her duties to the others after.

“Everything will work out in the end.” She added stirring the cauldron of soup. “Three thousand and then some years will teach you that.”

“We Anaya’s are cursed for our relationships of all kinds to fall apart in a fiery mess of horse droppings.” Ezra mumbled.

Amis said nothing to that.

“I do hope you’re right though. I can’t lose Milo too.”


	2. Maybe, Cool Off A Bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a temper the Queen stalks off, a horrid blizzard gets him lost. A Prince makes everything difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that every time I get a question about this story, I'll both answer it in the comments and the beginning notes of each chapter.
> 
> Gender/Sexuality:
> 
> Gaeans don’t use pronouns for the soul reason that since they are both sexes the concept of gender never applies to them, so they use the color of a persons’ skin to identify the person from a group. Each color-pronoun may have a double meaning; as in, the word for blue also means sky. When getting more specific in a persons’ color (dark blue, pale red, etc.) a suffix or something similar will be added. Similar to how ka in Japanese used at the end of a sentence makes it a question. The ending on its own means nothing but attached to a color word, it makes it mean person. Example: shegwa (pronounces sheh-gwa) means dark person, or dark skinned person. If there are several dark skinned persons’ in the area one may add the color. Example: hejeggwa (pronounced heh-jeh-gwa) mean light colored blue person. There are several Gaean dialects that use “kwa” instead of “gwa”.
> 
> About the “words for colors may also mean another thing”. Here is what I have so far:  
> • Red = blood  
> • Blue = sky  
> • Yellow = sun (or sickness depending on context).  
> • Brown = soil  
> • Black = shadow  
> • Pink = flower (or blossom)  
> • White = snow  
> • Orange = flame  
> • Purple = energy  
> • Green = life  
> • Grey = ???  
> • Dark = she (sheh)  
> • Light = he (heh).  
> Gaeans can be a very literal people. Colors that are more specific (like teal, beige, aqua, rust, etc.) have their own words.
> 
> Language is still in the works, I only have a few words/grammar rules, so if there's something missing, it's because I haven't figured it out yet.

The Queen’s mood worsened as the long evenings dragged on.

It was the fifth day of a three-day journey as everyone became more and more anxious as the weather progressively worsened. Occasional snow flurries turned into heart-stopping blizzards that stopped the Queen's entourage until the weather calmed. Which could take anytime from hours to a full day. Out of the original twenty, more than half the company left home with heartfelt apologies, being too fearful to make the journey and so turned back before it was too late.

“I don’t understand.” Milo shook the portable weather meter, “The weather should be mild, it’s not due to storm like this for another month.”

“And it’s much too late to turn back now.” Helga added.

Both guards turned their heads toward their sulking monarch who sat staring at the flapping tent walls, sulking. All eight of them shared the Queen’s large tent for warmth and safety. The gear and provisions brought with them used as weights for the edges of the tent. Twice before the walls threatened to come loose.

“I’m sorry.” Ezra said breaking his long silence, head tilted around just enough to look at them. His face was a mask of exhaustion. The perpetual twilight Antarctic falls brought and the dreadful climate must have been doing a number on him.

“What nonsense you spill,” said the cook. “My Queen, the Antarctic has always been unpredictable and seem to defy the normal weather patterns,” she tutted. “Now eat dear, you need your strength.”

“No, I fear the weather reflects my moods.” Ezra stared solemnly at the steam curling from the broth.

Amis barked a short laugh. “Don’t be silly dear. If that were true, the Capitol would never see the sun-” she stopped suddenly, realizing she’d made fun of the Queen’s melancholy.

_‘Ah yes. The Queen’s unreasonable sadness. The joke at everyone’s table.’_ Ezra thought bitterly. But... “I suppose you’re right.” Ezra sighed.

He took a few sips from the broth only to suddenly felt ill. He pushed the bowl away with a grimace. A painful jab somewhere low in his body made him cringe. It had been like that since he'd woken up, almost like clockwork. He thought nothing of it, the baby was just as restless as everyone else.

“I hate being pregnant. If I’d known it would be like this, I would have adopted.” Ezra groaned miserably.

Milo frowned in sympathy.

Gaean pregnancies have been known to last up to eleven months and poor Ezra had gotten to ten and some days.

At least as far as Milo knew.

He didn’t even know about the Queen’s pregnancy till a week into the trip when he caught him sick in the toilet at the inn they were staying at on their way to the first noble house. Milo had suspected fowl play, but Ezra calmed those fears by groaning the word ‘pregnant’ while vomiting breakfast.

Things went quiet in the tent. There was an almost awkwardness to it. Ezra and Milo had not reconciled since the stranger incident. Neither have talked to each other, other than what was necessary. Civility still ruled, but the tense atmosphere between the two increased with every passing hour.

“The wind has stopped.” Ezra stood, table and chair pushed away so fast they tipped.

Sure enough, the tent walls laid still and outside was eerily quiet.

Ezra was already outside by the time anyone else managed to react to the quiet.

“Ezra, wait!” Milo called to a retreating tail. The guard grabbed his sword as he chased his wayward charge into the cold.

Outside was silent as the grave. The sky clear was starless as far as the eye could see. The landscape white and flat with few snow bumps. And off toward the distance, a taller mound of snow. Probably a glacier or a rock of some sort.

“My Queen?” Milo called lightly. It felt wrong to disturb the peaceful twilight.

“Here my Guard.” Ezra’s voice was just as soft and gentle.

A few yards from the tent there was a snow hill in which the Queen had seen fit to climb. Deep trenches led to where he stood at the top huddled in his winter coat, breath coming out in white puffs. Silky black hair tousled by the gentle breeze. His tail curled upward enough where it did no touch the frozen ground.

Milo took a moment to take in the beauty he saw before him.

“Tell them to pack up, and hurry. This good weather won’t last. We’re almost there, an hour away at least.” Ezra said.

Milo frowned and trudged up the hill. Sure enough, the icy village was in sight. A fist sized black dot in a sea of white.

“As you wish. Come back down, where it is safe.”

“It is safe here.”

“I can’t see you up here-”

“I’m not a child Captain. Go see to my orders.” Ezra spitted.

“Ezra please-”

“Go see to my orders or I will find someone who will.” The Queen repeated with clenched teeth.

“Apologies, my Queen. I only wish for your safety.” Milo retorted with equal malice. He kicked the snow, desperate for something to take his anger out on as he climbed down from the hill.

Ezra watched for a moment then went back to watching the black dot in the horizon.

He knew, deep down, that he was being too harsh with Milo. Milo, who only wanted him safe and protected. Ezra blamed his temper on the pains he’d been feeling lately.

*****     ***     ***     ***     ***     *****

“Ezra, my Queen.” Milo called from the bottom of the hill some time later.

“Yes?”

“We are ready to leave. Will you be riding with me, or taking the sled?” Milo asked.

Ezra felt a strong kick somewhere near his stomach causing bile to rise. A sudden unease settled over him. “The sled. I fear being sick on you this morning.” He confessed, gingerly making his way through the path he'd made getting up there. “The baby is feeling restless.”

He was glad the sled got fixed. It would make everything easier, perhaps they may even get to town earlier than his predicted hour.

Once down the hill, Ezra suddenly felt better. As if walking had cleared up something within him. “On second thought.” He said turning back to the dot, “It’s not far now. I think I’ll walk a while.”

Milo’s face scrunched in concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Must you always question me?” Ezra spitted, irritated once more.

Milo said nothing, merely nodded stiffly, his face once again a brick wall. “Apologies sire. I only wish for your health and safety.”

“I know. And I appreciate your care, I really do. But Mother of All, Milo, if I wanted your help I would ask for it. I’ve always have. What makes now of all times any different?” Ezra stood as tall as his aching back would allow.

It was getting colder, as if the long night was minutes away.

Milo broke under the frustrated gaze of his Queen. “You carry a child and cannot protect yourself if the need arises. You can’t even get up without assistance. Your bouts of narcolepsy have become all too common to leave you alone. You wonder off, empty in head causing a need for constant supervision. You-” Milo listed without pause, counting off on his fingers. He stopped abruptly when he saw the thick tears streaming down Ezra’s face.

“Well _excuse me_ for being such a burden!” Ezra pushed Milo over, he fell in the deep snow, too stunned to break his own fall. By the time Milo untangled himself from the snow, his Queen had already managed to trudge away, determined to get as far away as possible.

“Ezra! Wait! I didn’t mean-!” just then the wind gusted to gale force sending loose snow into the air, obscuring Milo’s visual of the blue and grey figure that was his Queen. “Wait! Ezra, stop! The weather!” Milo ran after him but the trail had vanished and he could no longer see anyone ahead. Thick black clouds shuttled across the sky.

Milo’s heart raced in terror. There were no clouds a moment ago.

“Ezra!”

“Captain! We must find shelter!” Helga shouted above the howling wind. He had waded through the new unpleasant weather to his friend.

“Go! Get the others to safety, I must go after the Queen!” Milo pushed Helga back, “He won’t last in this weather. Not in his current condition!”

“Go my friend. Bring our Queen back. I’ll take over from here!” Helga shouted back already sinking back toward the camp.

“Thank you!” Milo called behind him as he sprinted toward the direction he had last saw his dearest friend.

*****     ***     ***     ***     ***     *****

_‘Stop crying. Stop crying! Gods above, stop!’_ Ezra mantra-ed as he stumbled away from his so-called friend.

The wind picked up, whirling powder into his face; but he didn’t care, too desperate to get far away. So he trudged on as fast as his heavy belly and the deep snow allowed.

Dimly, through the wind, he heard his name being called. It sounded desperate and urgent. He trudged faster. The town was only a few miles away; he could make it.

As the weather turned from a bother to impossible and walking got ever more difficult, it became increasingly clear to Ezra that he wouldn’t make it to the town. At least not alive.

Ezra braved looking into the blizzarding winds to find some sort of shelter. He couldn’t turn back, his tracks were gone as soon as his foot was lifted, and visibility was too low to wander aimlessly backwards. He may miss his people and freeze to death. Staying in one place was too dangerous. So struggling forward is the only viable option.

_‘Great. Just what I need. To be frozen to death because I’m stupid enough to run away.’_

Ezra made it precisely two more steps before falling to his knees in sudden excruciating pain. The pain came from somewhere low, where the baby rested. Like menstrual cramps from hell. It came in like a terrifying tsunami and left just the same.

Fear of losing the baby gripped the Queen like a vise. It was all too common, too common for their advanced medicine in his opinion, for a Gaean mother to lose their first child. His age worked against him as well, many physicians advised caution in carrying a child past their fourth century and Ezra passed that mark long ago.

As the pain dissipated, he began thinking more rationally.

Too far from any help, the only hope he had was to find shelter. Any shelter would do at that point.

It was likely his labor – which he only then realized what the pain was as he stood to wade through thigh-high snow – would last for a few hours. Long enough for faithful Milo to find him and perhaps even the blizzard would pass. Then he could get shuttled to the nearest home or hospital to give birth out of the elements.

Several agonizing minutes went by when another wave of pain had Ezra kneeling against a hard wall of packed ice. He’d waded there in hopes that the snow would be shallower being that the wind blew opposite of the ice wall.

As the new wave of pain left he felt something with in him release, like he’d peed himself, and a steady trickle of liquid spilled down his thighs. His water broke.

Another bout of fear went through him. Desperately Ezra searched the surroundings.

Ezra thought he’d have hours; with the new development those hours turned to a few dozen minutes. That was, if he remembered the long boring lectures on prenatal health his mother shoved down his throat correctly. _‘Maybe I’ll get lucky and this part will last more time than average. It happens. Please All Mother let me be above the norm.’_

What was worse was that the cold was beginning to numb his legs and now his lower half was starting to freeze. The icy wind had left Ezra’s face raw and eyes dry. If he didn’t find shelter soon, losing the baby would be the least of his worries.

His hand slipped from the wall, snow tumbled from the surface revealing dark grey stone.

The sight of stone gave hope that shelter was possible.

Ezra stumbled on, ignoring the biting cold and growing panic the best he could, never straying from the cliff as he desperately prayed for a cave, an inlet, _anything_ to get him out of the snow. Maybe, then just maybe his unborn child would have a chance.

Ezra lost time and most the feeling in his extremities by the time something darker than grey rock caught his eye. By that time his labor pains kept him in a single spot for far too long; they were getting longer and closer together. It wouldn’t be long now.

He had his eyes closed to ride the tide of pain when he, once again, leaned against the wall for support, only to fall over – shoulder caching on the edge of the cave, saving him from falling completely. Icicles broke and shattered on the stone floor.

A cave! And deep enough he couldn’t see the back end.

Praying that no animals had the same idea as sheltering from the storm as he, he ventured in, hugging the rough wall for support till his legs could no longer support his ample weight and he collapsed to his knees.

It wasn't any warmer inside the cave, but at least no wind or snow penetrated inside.

Slowly, Ezra maneuvered himself onto his bottom. Shaking hands ripped off soaked gloves to better untie his boots and pants. It took many false starts and minutes before Ezra could kick off his boots and work on shimmying his pants off. Frost got shaken off as the undergarments shared the same fate as the pants.

With shaking hands, he reached down to probe his vagina with freezing fingers. Nothing yet, but he’d easily slipped a few fingers inside, _'Any moment now.'_ Ezra struggled with taking his discarded clothes and placing them between his legs so at least the baby would land on something other than cold stone. Avoiding frostbite on his butt would also have been nice.

The coat was still in the way; he couldn’t move well enough to help himself deliver. Off went the coat and between the legs it laid. He could wrap the baby in it. That left him with just an ugly wool frock, cut in a way that the chest parts could detach from the shoulder to reveal a breast for the baby to feed on, then reattach later – "A must have for any expecting or nursing mothers!" So said the nurse that gave him the ugly thing. Ezra leaned down on his elbow, head thumping against the cave wall.

_‘Breathe. Breathe. You can do this. They’ve been doing this since live birth existed. Come on, come on. Just follow your instincts. Trust when your body says push.’_ Ezra suddenly remembered his mother’s advice.

The next contraction was painful enough to make Ezra cry out.

He heard voices above the wind. Too faint to make out. His people? Or a hallucination? He didn’t recognize any of the tones.

Another painful cry, just as the last one teetered out. Another disembodied voice, higher than the last one.

Ezra felt it, the baby wanted out _now_. He felt around down there with numb fingers, feeling gooey hair and something soft and round. _‘Push. Push now.’_

Delirious, Ezra did what he could running on fumes and instinct. A sudden painful release and a cry, there were several in fact, all around him. Sounds of flesh hitting flesh, of pained grunts and frustrated growls. But Ezra only focused on the wailing between his legs. The babe wouldn’t last long in the cold.

“Come here child.” Ezra struggled to get off his elbows and back. To lean forward off the wall where he had propped himself. He couldn’t reach his child. The child needed a name, the name that came to him as he pushed for the last time.

“Here my Queen.” A voice said and a heavy screaming wet thing got settled into his arms. Ezra nearly sobbed at Milo’s voice.

He couldn’t stop shivering. It was so cold.

Carefully, trying to will his arms to stop shaking so much, he brought the newborn’s forehead to his lips. And with the last bit of strength Ezra, Queen of all Gaeans, named his child.

“Teresa.” He felt a small burst of power as he spoke. “Teresa Dawn Anaya, heir to the Queen’s throne. Prince of Gaea. Sibling of Man. Child of the Nameless Queen-” there Ezra stumbled, the cold and exhaustion getting to him. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision. “-and Terra Lee of the House of Roses.” His vision swam as the last bit of his strength faded.

He passed out, dropping the infant.

“Ezra!” was the last thing he heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask me questions about this universe and i will always answer!


	3. Stupid Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milo trails after the Queen and runs into a lot of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is happening about 2,300 yrs bfore present (had to use a lot of math for that!) 2,253 yrs ago the previous Queen (Ezekiel) went missing. 35 yrs later, w/o any sign of the Queen, Ezra decided to crown himself Queen. 2,311 yrs ago this story begins with the birth of Teresa. This story may only be less than 10 chaps bc I plan on making a small novel for each of the royal family.
> 
> Here's some history of the race!
> 
> They consider themselves as "the first humans" but are not technically native to earth. Gaeans were Energy Beings from the voids of space, to any ancient knowledge, they had no home planet; they just floated around in space occasionally touching down on planets. They had no physical body and were completely immortal, they could not be killed but they could “give up” their lives by dissipating their energy if they no longer wanted to exist. (Gaeans do this to this day).
> 
> They reproduced by getting 2 (rarely three or more) Gaeans to hold hands in front of each other in a bowl like formation and concentrated on merging their energies. An infant would be formed after some time. The Gaean parents and infant would be completely vulnerable at this time (other beings can steal the infant and/or drain the parents of power, it won’t really kill the adults but it comes very close, the infant can die up till it’s “birthed”) so they usually chose harsh places where only their kind could exist safely (nebulas, inhospitable gas planets, near black holes, etc.) The length of their tails indicated their age. Some tails were known to get light yrs long.
> 
> Out of the blue, a horrible sickness swept through, killing the elders instantly (probably because they had such long tails). It turned their bodies to a tar like substance and killed anyone who became infected. Their kind was dying out, so the youngest and the remaining elders were forced to “land” on a planet w no sentient/intelligent life on it just yet (Earth) and create bodies w flesh for they found that those that adopted flesh, did not get sick (or at least survived).
> 
> They chose body plans similar to their own and the strange creatures in the trees (early primates), choosing skin colors the same as the color of their energies and kept their long tails, but added long toes and pointed ears, and hair similar to the many sentient species found around the galaxy.
> 
> But the disease followed them still and made many very sick, most died, some pulled through and were stuck in their flesh vessels unable to go back to their energy selves. (It is believed that through the generations, leaving the flesh became nearly impossible to do permanently, as Gaeans can only do it for a short time).
> 
> They eventually noticed the only beings that didn't contract the disease, or survived the disease were the ones of yellow skin/energy. For this the others panicked, believing that it was the yellows who brought the sickness it was they who have been killing their own kind. And for that misguided reason, the other colors began the culling of the yellows.
> 
> The yellows survived (barely), but to present day people blieve people born w yellow skin r curses and will only bring misfortune. It is outlawed to kill a yellow child (or any child for that matter) but that doesn’t stop many from suffocating the yellows, or leaving the infants out to die. If the yellow child manages to live past infancy, they usually end up locked away in family homes never seen by outsiders or thrown out to fend for themselves; rarely do they live to adulthood.
> 
> This was all so long ago that most Gaeans don’t believe in the first part of the myth, but do believe that a terrible disease nearly wiped out their species and the yellows were to blame. W their advanced science and medicine they now know that the yellows most likely had an immunity to the disease and were possibly healthy carriers, but they did not actually cause the sickness. Still the prejudice lives on.
> 
> The only scientific evidence of this creation myth is the fact that there is no fossil record of the Gaeans anywhere. To some, this proves that they r not native to the planet.
> 
> When a Gaean is accumulating cosmic energy at a rate that the physical body cannot keep up, they “explode” and r stuck in an energy form state till their flesh emerges forth from the energy, similar to how land recovers from a flood. It can happen many times throughout a Gaean’s life. It usually coincides w physical growth. If the Gaean hasn’t grown in time, then their energy will build up, and like a shaken up bottle, can explode. The effect is that the Gaean goes into hibernation until the flesh is reformed and balance is restored within the body. The Gaean (if still in a growing period) will be taller or fatter depending on genetics to accommodate the extra energy. Think of it as a forced growth spurt.

Through the howling gale force winds that threatened to tear his clothes off, Milo heard a piercing cry. He stood still, it was very possible that the cry was just another voice in the banshee-like winds. A moment passed but nothing else was said, so Milo trotted onward.

Black specs appeared in the white distance, blurred by the fat snowflakes swirling around.

Voices carried by the wind caused Milo to sprint toward them, hoping they were denizens of the land also caught in the storm and not just lost penguins. _‘Please be people who have seen our Queen.’_ Milo prayed as he stumbled through the thick snow.

Ser Ren felt raw and frost bitten by the time he neared the giant rock and people. Relief swept over him but was quickly whipped away as the keen he heard earlier came again, louder and seemed to echo that time. The source of the cry sounded in great pain. As that one teetered out another came, as if from the same breath.

Milo crept forward, anxiously cautious of what laid ahead.

“-think I heard something.” Milo nearly jumped out of his skin when the wind carried voices to him and gripped his sword handle tightly. He ducked to the wall, hoping his light grey clothing camouflaged him to the rock, in time to see three figures congregate ahead.

“How can you hear anything in this blizzard?” another voice spoke, slightly higher than the one before.

Milo peaked around some broken icicles and saw three figures in black at the front of a cave entrance. They were all turned away from him so Milo couldn’t see their faces nor the colors of their skin.

A wailing escaped from within the cave, longer and louder than all the others before; it brought two of the three inside with words that made Milo’s blood run as cold as the storm.

“Look at that. The Queen himself, and already down for the count. Makes our job easier.”

“Shut up and kill the monarch before we lose our tails to this storm!” said the one who still stood near the entrance.

Milo had little time.

Wasting not a second, he rushed over to the one guarding the entrance, sword drawn. He tried to be stealthy but the snow and the bitter cold made his limbs numb and clumsy.

With the skill of a newborn lamb, Milo aimed for the chest and a quick hand over the mouth to silence the death shout, but he stumbled the last step and got an agonizing wail as his sword sunk to the hilt into the solar plexus of the other.

Milo cursed and twisted the blade to bring the other to their knees so he could kick them off his sword. Milo brought a leg up and stomped it down on the person’s jaw, there was a horrible snap, and they slid off the sword and into the cave.

That close Milo could see the mint green face of the assassin.

One down, two to go.

With the shout of one, he was brought to the attention of the others.

“A damn palace guard!” Milo heard the one on the left say to their partner. Milo crept closer, like a predator stalking prey, waiting for a chance to attack. His foes weren’t distracted enough for him to simply rush after them. “Take care of the Queen, I’ll deal with this one.”

“That’s an Imperial Queen’s Guard, be careful.” Said the right one, Milo heard a slight tremor in the higher voice.

Good.

“I don’t give a dragon’s scaly hide! Do as I say!” Milo was close enough to see the flinch of the right one and the left one’s red face; a face that made the fatal mistake of turning away to yell at the other.

Milo took his chance.

He pounced, both hands on sword as he lifted it high over his head to bring it down on the enemy’s head. Said enemy saw and dodged, just barely stumbling from the blade as it clanged against the hard ground. Not deterred, Milo swung around, grip tight, to cut the other at the middle. Again, Red managed to stumble a clumsy dodge. But Milo felt a hit, he was sure he sliced through something.

There was a glint and a sudden pain in Milo’s thigh as Red spun and danced away.

Milo was now in the cave, back toward the Queen who was wailing within. He hoped the other assassin didn’t see fit to try to get him from behind.

He was just glad that he was not the only one whose combat skills were suffering in the mind numbing Antarctic cold.

Both fighters paused for a moment, assessing each other’s damage. It was clear to Ser Ren – and his shattered pride – that he had gotten the worse of that clash, as there was a dagger of good length sticking out his thigh and the other simply held a torn jacket with minimal blood seeping from the gash.

Milo’s leg buckled suddenly. Caught off guard he fell to one knee with a barely suppressed moan of pain. He cursed and struggled to stand.

The red assassin seemed to laugh in relief as they unhooked their pick axe from their waist. They tried the same trick Milo did in the beginning of their fight. Milo managed to fall and roll away further into the cave, losing his sword and, painfully, the dagger in the process. He heard the wiz as the impromptu weapon missed his head and clacked against the ground.

_‘This is most undignified for a Queen’s Guard.’_ Milo grumbled to himself _. ‘Losing! While my Queen lays not ten feet away.’_

Milo, upset and pride blown to splinters, rolled again and again as his assailant tried very hard to skewer him. He couldn’t get up without putting himself in the path of the pick axe, and his other concealed weapons were within clothing out of reach in his current condition.

Finally, the assassin’s pick axe got stuck, allowing Milo to roll onto his feet, shoving his hand into his boot for his own dagger.

It was then, Milo felt his bleeding wound started to burn.

Milo righted himself on shaking legs in time for the red assassin to unstick their weapon. Milo hoped the fight would be over soon, a burning numbness was starting in his leg and he still had another to deal with.

The next attack came with a frustrated shout, but Milo is ready for it.

His foe came charging, so Ser Ren placed his whole weight on his good leg and held the dagger’s hilt with both hands, ducked under the raised arms of the other and plunged the blade as deep as he could manage into their chest. Milo felt the other jerk in surprise and felt the pick axe land on his wound before falling to the ground.

The guard cursed in pain and kicked away the offending thing.

Milo then pushed the red assassin off him and slashed their neck for good measure on the way down.

The whole fight couldn’t have taken more than a minute for as he turned around the last assassin was only a few feet from his Queen, who sat against the rough wall in the very back, nearly nude, legs spread wide, and gasping out his wails- _‘Oh, don’t tell me-’_

Breathing heavily and shaking with pain and cold, Milo shouted to the last assassin, “Stand down!” his leg burned like fire and his fingers were so numb he could barely keep his grip. He lost the feeling in his tail long before finding the cave.

The last one spun around spotting the gurgling death of their friend. This one was pink, so lightly colored they could have pass as human if only there wasn’t a tail.

“Stand down!” Milo repeated, taking an agonizing step forward. He had to get himself between the assassin and the Queen so he tried to circle around. “Stand down, or meet your partners’ fate!” he puts as much authority into his voice as he could.

The last assassin stepped back with wide darting eyes.

Milo jerked forward in response.

Pink’s body language changed from aggressive to submissive in seconds. Their tail curled close to their body; the tip circling their ankle as they dipped their head just slightly. Milo relaxed minutely but still moved forward cautiously; his bloody weapon clutched in a white knuckled grip.

Without warning the assassin launched themself at Milo, who was unable to prepare himself for the sudden weight upon him.

He hit his head on impact, the shock of it unclenched his fists and he watched in dismay as the dagger fell just out of reach. Gloved hands wrapped around the guard’s throat cutting of his air, furthering his frustration.

Disoriented Milo tried to pry the unrelenting grip off but he couldn’t, every struggle just made the grip tighter. If it got any tighter Milo feared his trachea would break.

Desperately Milo tried for his dagger but it was still just finger tips away. He tried to use his tail to at least cause a distraction, but it was lodged beneath them.

The Queen’s cries were louder than before and Milo found himself a body length away; he could smell the distress clogging the air as Ezra convulsed in labor pains. _‘Does he even know we’re here?’_

Realizing how little time they had before the baby made its depute, Milo wrenched his tail painfully from underneath his body and wrapped it around his assailant’s neck as tight as he could while wrenching Pink to the side till they let go of his neck to scratch at their own neck.

Milo managed to wiggle from under the assassin and roll away, grasping the fallen dagger as he did. He was forced to let go of the other in order to gain the distance he needed. Only Pink recovered more quickly than Milo had anticipated and he felt a sudden solid weight on his back as he was once again in a choke hold.

The surprise of the attack made Milo weaponless once again.

He felt a crushing blow to his injured thigh – with what he didn’t know – and Milo couldn’t help the shout of pain. Milo jabbed his elbows backward, hoping for a solid hit, but no such luck.

He was buckling under the heavy weight of the other, normally he could carry such weight easily but the injury to his leg and the cold exhaustion had weakened him.

With his free tail, Milo was able to use it as a weapon like he was trained to do. He wrapped it around the assassin’s ankle and pulled it up and to the side with all his strength and when he felt the tilt, Milo hopped up and backward, body slamming the other to the ground.

They fell in a tangle of limbs, landing on the body of the dead red assassin, much to Ser Ren’s dismay.

Milo yanked Red’s lost blade from under their dead body, rolled toward his own, grabbed that, and rolled to his feet in front of Ezra. He crouched, blades in front of his chest and neck, ready to face his opponent.

The forest fire in his thigh had moved to his pelvis and down to his knee. He couldn’t stop it from shaking.

Ezra had been reduced to whining loudly with a splash of pathetic crying.

Milo chanced a glance backward, only to see a round thing inside what Milo could only assume is the Queen’s dilated vagina. Milo felt sick and vowed never to birth any children. Ever.

_‘But of course this is happening. Ezra never made anything easy. And now, here I am, fighting assassins in below livable temperatures, because I had to track a runaway royal in the worst storm I have ever seen, because I was stupid enough to be truthful to an oversensitive pregnant person!’_

Breathing heavier than before Milo tried to forget his anxieties by watching the other recover from their fall.

Pink had managed to stand, albeit on unsteady legs. There was the telltale sound of metal scraping on stone and Milo spied the dreaded pick axe in Pink’s hand.

“Why protect such a wretched person?” they growled, head bowed so their face lied in shadow, dark hair tumbled from their hood like lichen off tree branches.

“Excuse me?” Milo blinked in surprise, not expecting to be addressed.

“Look how _weak_ the Queen is.”

Milo suddenly understood. The assassins must have been from a popular faction of the Anti-Royalists, who believed rulers should be chosen in the arena and not by blood lines.

There were many branches of the Anti-Royalists. The most popular and numerous were the ones who believed the monarchy was too archaic and leaders should be chosen by vote of the people. It was the most peaceful, though they aren’t above sending an assassin or bomb at nobles. Like most organizations, they branched off creating new cults to brainwash the masses. Like the third most popular faction: the Anarchists who simply wanted to destroy any and all forms of leadership. They were the most dangerous as they cared not for the lives of civilians. The list of Anti-Royalists numbered in the hundreds and had pages upon pages of information that Milo was forced to study and recite by heart. He was just glad Ezra was forced as well, it made long nights of study less painful.

_‘Know your enemy and all that.’_ His father was found of reciting, well, just the ‘know your enemy part’, Milo had added the last words to irate his father. Always repeated with an insolent eye roll that had Sun Tzu frowning.

“Pregnancy will do that.” Milo growled back, “Can you live with murdering an unborn child as well?”

It was a capital offense to murder a child. Especially an infant. Children meant everything to their people, they had more fertility and child gods than most cultures.

“So the line ends? I can live with that.” Their high voice was strange, it made Milo wonder how old the person was.

“And the Queen’s mother, Jethro? He may have gone through the change, but he's not so old to sire. Lord Jethro is more powerful than most the people in the galaxy, you can’t take him.” Milo’s injured thigh convulsed unexpectedly, nearly sending him to the ground. _‘Definitely poisoned.’_ “And the Shadow, the Queen’s twin? Perhaps you could take them, but I doubt it.” Pink had taken careful steps closer while Milo had waited for some sort of opening to take them down. “You willing to go after a crippled yellow? Jethro’s younger sibling won’t put up much of a fight, but Jethro will, his lordship is very protective of his younger sibling.”

“Sure.” They shrugged with such nonchalance it made Milo’s blood boil.

And then they made the very same mistake Red made in the beginning.

Milo couldn’t afford to step aside as the last assassin came barreling toward him, pick axe raised. Not with Ezra a step away.

So Milo balanced on his good leg and waited the precious seconds it took for Pink to rush his way and prayed they did not have the foresight to stop their onrush. With his poisoned leg Milo kicked Pink in the chest as hard as he dared and sent the other a good few feet from their contact.

His leg screamed in searing pain. The burning extended to the ankle.

Pink fell with a frustrated howl, the pick axe clattered out of their reach. They tried to crawl toward it but Milo kicked in their ribs, sending them skidding and extra foot to the side. Milo straddled the other and dropped heavily onto their torso. Pink heaved and tried in vain to wiggle their arms from under Milo’s legs.

“Who’s weak now? Can’t even take out a crippled palace guard, let alone a pregnant Queen in labor.” Milo snarled as he plunged the dagger into the chest of the last assassin and twisted it for good measure. He watched as they choked on the blood spilling out their mouth like an overflowed cup. A slow crawling red stain blossomed from the chest wound.

Milo used the other dagger to slash their throat. Better safe than sorry.

He watched another moment as the struggling to get out from underneath Milo stilled and the light died out in their brown eyes.

Milo dropped the borrowed dagger onto the blood soaked stone and shoved his own dagger back into his boot clumsily while he struggled to stand on wobbling legs. He stumbled away from the body and toward his Queen uneasy about the sudden quiet of the cave. Though it could have very well be the poison coursing through his bloodstream making it hard to concentrate, or the pounding of his heart in his ears. The pain was unbearable and the quiet was eerie.

“Ezra?” Milo called weakly. He fell to his knees, vision beginning to blur while the burning poison ventured closer to his chest. Milo had a feeling that if he survived the poisoning, he’d have liquid shit for days.

The Queen grunted and Milo made the mistake of leaning forward. The Queen’s birth canal was full of child; the dark head crowned by a vagina stretched to the max. Milo felt sickness that had nothing to do with the poisoning. The pain and confusion was forgotten, replaced by overwhelming disgust as his friend grunted again and the newborn slid out with a sickening squelch and a gush of womb waters.

Milo stared open mouthed as the infant began to wail and shake. Still in shock, Milo watched his Queen struggle to sit up and reach for the child. There was sobbing, Milo wasn’t sure from who. “Come here child.”

Ser Ren snapped back to painful reality, put his disgust aside, and nervously picked up the warm wiggling goo covered infant and placed them into their mother’s arms. “Here, my Queen.”

He leaned away from the pair, momentary relief from the pain gone. He smiled tiredly at them, watching as Ezra trembled in the freezing cold. The baby was a light blue, though he expected the child to darken with age. Dark hair sparsely covered a mostly bald head. It still wailed, but in their mother’s arms they wailed less fiercely.

Then, Ezra lifted the newborn to his face and Milo realized the severity of their situation. The Queen was mostly naked, the newborn covered in liquid, himself wounded and in no condition to defend again if another assassination was attempted. Frightened, Milo dragged his body to the closest dead person and began undressing them. _‘We will not make the night in our condition, but perhaps I can prolong our lives.’_

“Teresa.” Ezra whispered. _‘Shit, right, the naming ceremony.’_ Milo struggled to stand so he could drag Pink outside. _‘The newborn is priority.’_ Milo told himself _. ‘Teresa will die faster than us, I can stand to be cold for a little while longer.’_ “Teresa Dawn Anaya.”

_‘Teresa is a strange name.’_ mused Milo hoping no curse was laid upon him as he looted the dead. _‘It sounds pretty at least.’_ He rolled Red out of their fur cloak suddenly wishing he had just stabbed them in the head instead of soiling the coat _. ‘I can always beg for forgiveness later. The death gods will understand, surely.’_ Milo labored with the dead weight, his leg making every movement a chore.

With great difficulty he managed to drag the red assassin outside with Pink and Green. Outside was still unbearably cold but the weather had lightened, one could see a few yards ahead now. He left the mostly naked dead people at the mouth of the cave, unwilling to go any further into the cold. _‘With my luck I’d get turned around and lost.’_

Milo set to looting the last assassin.

“Heir to the Queen’s throne.” Milo could barely hear Ezra now, so faint his voice had gotten.

He could no longer control the shaking in his arms so Milo gathered the coats and whatever else he could manage to take off the dead and shuffled like the living dead back to his freezing monarchs.  “Prince of Gaea.” Milo dropped himself besides the Queen, breathless and in so much pain it blurred his vision. “Sibling of Man.” He placed the clothes to the side and cupped his palms together _‘A flame spell will do us good. If I can get it large enough, I can set it aside and dress them.’_ “Child of the Nameless Queen and-” the Queen faltered in his words. A small, sky blue glow, concentrated in Milo’s hands. “-and Terra Lee of the House of Roses.”

_‘So that’s the true name of Ezra’s wedded? And to think-’_ Milo sighed as the warmth in his hands builds. He looked over the glow in time to see his Queen go limp the baby, forgotten, wailing as it slipped from their mother’s arms. “Ezra!” the magic vanished to catch Teresa.

Teresa’s skin was beginning to cool. It frightened Milo more than the unresponsive Queen. “Ezra? Your Grace? My Queen?” Milo leaned forward, bumping his shoulder to Ezra’s. No response.

_‘Oh Gods.’_ Milo’s lips quivered. The wailing of the Prince sent Milo onto action. _‘The Prince first.’_ He knew Ezra would never forgive him if he set him above the babe.

He placed Teresa on the birth soaked coat between Ezra’s legs and fumbled for his dagger. It was an opal blade with deer antler for a handle. He’d forgotten were had gotten it, the human world maybe. Milo wiped the blood off on his pants, grabbed the cord that connected the two together but hesitated. _‘This is sacred. I’m not the father. I’m no doctor. Will it hurt…?’_ Teresa’s cries were thick, fat limbs more stumps that legs and arms wiggled furiously. _‘But…’_ Ezra moaned, his face looked in pain. _‘There’s no time!’_ Milo decided. He sawed through the thick cord roughly. No screaming or moans of pain followed, only the continuous wail of the infant, so Milo guessed he did the right thing.

Ser Ren relieved himself of his coat and under shirts. The cold reached out its icy fingers, taking his breath away momentarily _. ‘Ignore it.’_ He rubbed Teresa of any remaining birth with his inner most shirt, the baby wined and wiggled at the not too gentle treatment, but there was no time to be nice. Teresa was then tightly swaddled in one of his middle layers. His coat swaddled over that. Only the infant’s face was shown. “You look like an old potato” Milo said out loud the the crinkled face of the newborn.

The babe was set aside with a small glowing flame dancing above them for warmth; only then did Milo take stock of his frozen Queen.

The air smelled of blood and something like musk but not quite. Ezra’s thighs had frost on them that Milo gently rubbed away with the same shirt he used on the baby. He didn’t see any extra blood, nor dark red pooling. Just a grossly wide vagina with an umbilical cord peeking out of it. _‘I am never birthing a child. If I wasn’t convinced before, I am now.’_ Ser Ren shuddered in disgust while struggling to stay conscious, he still needed to redress his friend.

With shaking hands Milo checked for a pulse and found it strong and steady. “Oh thank the Gods.” Milo sobbed placing his face into his friend’s chest. There was wet spots near his nipples- “What..? Oh. Oh! Fuck.” Milo cursed realizing why the babe still cried so insistently. He ignored Teresa’s cries for mother’s milk. The babe could go hungry a little while longer, Ezra must get dressed first.

The pants were a hassle and in the end Milo had to shove his dirtied under shirt between the Queen’s legs for underwear as Milo couldn’t seem to find the Queen’s. _‘Probably never even worn any this day. Idiot.’_ Ezra’s long beautiful tail got crammed into a pant leg to prevent it being lost to the bite. By the time Milo managed to re-shoe the Queen, Teresa had delved into pathetic whimpers that grew more annoying the longer Milo was forced listen. _‘Stupid baby. Why would anyone_ want _one of those ugly things? Filthy, loud, expensive. Worthless.’_ He grumbled to himself.

Ezra’s winter coat was too wet and soiled to put back on him, so Milo crammed the Queen’s arms into one of the bloodied borrowed coats and once again gave a prayer to the death gods not to curse them. He then put on the shirts he didn’t use back and then another borrowed soiled coat. Green’s he thought it belonged to.

The cold had taken over the pain, he felt nothing in his fingers and tail. His ears burned like fire. The poisoned leg long forgotten in his struggles to keep them alive.

_‘I can’t stop. My Prince and Queen will die without me.’_ Milo shivered so violently that when he picked up Teresa, they shook and started to cry all over again. _‘Gods, shut_ up.’

Nervously and hoping Ezra wouldn’t choose that moment to wake, he peeled away Ezra’s maternity robe to bare a breast and pressed Teresa to the nipple. They latched on greedily. Ezra whined. Quickly, Milo zipped and fastens the coat around the newborn. Milo donned Ezra’s frozen hands with his own gloves as he couldn’t seem to find Ezra’s and then folded the coat’s hood over the Queens head. _‘Might help.’_ He thought.

The magic fire left to warm the infant burned out. Milo had no energy to make another, but he tried anyway. He threw his legs over the Queen’s and pressed himself close for warmth and to make a flame closer to the baby.

The faint sky blue glow was soothing but not nearly large enough to keep the chill away _. ‘It’s as big as its going to get.’_ Milo decided a head resting on Ezra’s shoulder _. ‘As long as the baby is warm. Nothing else matters.’_ Milo felt exhaustion creep in. _‘No! I have to stay awake!’_ but his eyes were so heavy and his limbs felt so numb.

The sky blue glowing orb wavered. It took all Ser Ren’s strength to keep it lit.

_‘It won’t be so bad…if I just closed my eyes… just for a little while?’_ he pondered. The poison burned its way across his chest making breathing difficult, and spanned his pelvis into the other leg. The uncontrollable shivering caused the sky blue magic to waver and shift like real fire. Milo reckoned there was a nasty bump where his head had hit the stone floor on a tumble he barely remembered then.

_‘If you sleep, you die.’_ Said a little voice.

_‘I suppose you’re right…’_ Milo battled with himself.

Teresa’s suckling stopped.

_‘It’s fine. Helga will find the baby. I’ve done my part. I can rest…’_ blackness crept.

The baby cried, and then stopped, only to cry again. Milo had no clue how long the pattern went on, all he knew was every minute, his strength to keep the warmth going faded. The struggle to stay awake got harder. The burning crept up his neck some time ago, overtook his other leg, and spread to his elbows. Every breath hurt, every breath was harder than the last.

Milo was on his last leg of strength, the sky blue orb barely there, when he heard something beyond the cave. “Go away.” He yelled – or tried to. Teresa began to cry again, _‘Gods.’_ “Ssshhut up. Stupid baby.”

Words were said, but Milo could no longer discern anything from anything.

_‘Shit, the fire. It’s gone. I… I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry Ezra, I tried. I’m just going to close my eyes, just for a little while…’_


	4. A Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helga and company find their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long y'all. I've been hitting every brick wall since the last chapter, so this chapter maybe smaller that the others idk. I've also started another story, different character same universe. It will be about Jeriko and Jethro.
> 
> Also, I managed to get a job, and retail is a bitch y'all
> 
> I'm always open for questions about this story, so fire away!

It was crying that drew Helga from the rest. High pitched that caused a parents’ instinct to spark. A cry Helga knew very well.

It was a baby’s cry.

Helga followed the sound, but then, the sound stopped.

“Ser Vaw? Is something the matter?” Tuin, his student, asked following him. Tuin held her badger fur lined hood so the wind couldn’t blow it off.

Helga frowned, “I heard a baby’s cry.”

“The wind maybe?”

“Maybe.” Helga nodded agreeing.

The storm had stopped but it made powdered snow atop the old snow below, making walking a difficult task. Just when you’d think you’d hit the bottom, you’d sink several inches more. The deepest snow Helga had the privilege in finding went to his waste, and he was taller than most. Six and three inches his last physical indicated. The less deep snow went to mid-calf, they all lost the feeling in their feet ages ago.

He had heard Tuin complain and curse the Queen for their retched trip to the South. Helga let her complain, they were all thinking it and Ezra did not care for silly curses and slights.

Helga had been an Imperial Queen’s Guard for over four hundred years and so knew the Queen like he knew his own mate. (Though no one knew the Queen like Milo, who had been at his side since they were six). The Queen was prone to private tantrums, had a fear of public speaking but got through it each time with minimal damage, cried easily, could never look anyone in the eye – not even himself in the mirror. Ezra had some sort of melancholy followed by bursts of hyper-ness that could last anywhere from hours to a few months. According to Ser Ren he’d had it all his life. Fixations and special interests were quirks most turned a blind eye to. Queen Ezra had a strangeness no one could put a finger on. So, when the Queen ran off, Helga wasn’t the least surprised.

“I should have warned Milo the dangers of the pregnant.” Helga said to no one in particular. He’d been through seven pregnancies with his mate. Helga knew how prickly and impossible a pregnant person could be.

“What was that Ser?” Tuin turned her gaze upward. Tuin only came to Helga’s shoulder, most people did.

“Nothing.” Helga shook his head, dismissing his thoughts to check on the group.

The Queen’s sled held everything, while Amis and their guide – he couldn’t recall his name – rode the two hippogryphs that hadn’t flown off when the storm hit. They followed their guide begrudgingly. Every one of them tired of walking. But trudge on they did, it was better than standing still and freezing to death. Every step brought them closer to the city.

“It’s mostly underground, where it’s warm,” Their guide had explained when Helga was unimpressed with the size of the so-called city he saw through the binoculars. “Those buildings are carved out of the rocks, to survive the storms you see. Each building has a tunnel that leads to the actual city. That city then connects to the larger city in the mountains.” He then pointed west of them, the mountains loomed larger than life ahead of them. Still several miles away, twenty maybe, if Helga had to guess.

“Then why bother with buildings at all?” Tuin asked. She was young, only twenty and five, so knew very little outside the Capital.

“Landmarks. Even the most experienced guide will get lost out here. The buildings also keep the elements from clogging tunnel entrances,” their guide shrugged. He must get that question a lot.

But that was over an hour ago. The city was now only a few hundred yards away. The storm had blown snow clear up to the roofs of the stone outcrops. At least, that’s what they looked like up close. Little outcrops with tiny caves for openings. If the snow weren’t there, one would see mesa-like rock formations that made up the buildings that hid and protected the entrances to the underground city. No one was outside.

“Where is everyone?” It was the pink, blond haired, blue eyed Doctor Strauss that spoke. The good doctor was impatient but curious in nature. Tall, but not nearly as tall as Helga and had a slight form that was just shy of twig-like.

“Underground,” their guide rolled his pale eyes. “None of the entrances will fit the sled, so it can be left here. Unless anyone wants to travel further,” he gestured toward the mountains with a head tilt, “The hippogryphs will take more convincing as it’s a tight fit, but they’ll be glad once we get to the caverns.”

 _‘There it is again. That crying.’_ Helga tuned out the guide as he explained how the caverns were lit and warmed. The sound echoed through the stone, the sound seemed so much closer than it was a few minutes ago. “Does no one hear that?” Helga asked.

“Hear what?” Amis swung off her hippogryph, red hair flying out her hood.

The sound came again.

“There, that.”

“I heard it Ser.” Tuin walked toward the sound a few paces.

“Perhaps it’s the Queen and Ser Ren?” Strauss suggested.

Helga squinted into the gloom of the twilight, searching for anything that might make such a noise. But all there was, was snow, snow, and more snow. Ser Vaw walked a few paces, and then a few more, faithful Tuin doing the same some feet away. The crying didn’t stop and each step in either direction seemed to bring them closer to the sound.

 _‘This is madness,’_ Helga thought, _‘Walking in circles like this is likely to get us killed.’_ But Tuin started off in a single direction.  “What is it Tuin?”

“It’s coming from this direc-” Tuin disappeared. Helga jogged toward her to see that the poor squire had fallen down a snow bank.

“Are you well, squire?” Helga laughed down at the child.

“Yes Ser,” Tuin grumbled, patting snow off her clothing and stomping snow off her boots.

Helga stood and then caught a glimpse of something ahead. Not too far, a dozen or more yards away, hidden by the large snow drift Tuin had the fortune to find. He slid down to investigate _‘There. Is that a person?’_ Helga wondered as he drew closer. _‘It is.’_ “Doctor! To me!” he called bending over the three half naked corpses laying outside a cave.

One was pink with a throat savagely cut and what looked like a chest wound that would have killed them plenty. _‘Seems like over kill to me.’_ The next corpse was red with the same pattern of death wounds. The light green corpse however, only had a chest wound, a wound they could have survived if they’d gotten to a hospital in time. Their death wound appeared to be the way their head was twisted. Bent too far to be healthy to anyone. All three were missing their coats.

“Go away.” A hoarse cracked voice called from inside the cave; it sounded as if it took all the person’s strength to say those words. Helga ventured inside, spying a tiny glow of a flicking sky blue orb. The crying started again. “Ssshhut up. Stupid baby.” The same cracked voice said, weaker than before.

“Ser Ren!?” Tuin pushed past Helga, “And the Queen! And a… a… Helga there’s a baby here!”

“No need to shout- A baby?” Helga took long strides to the huddled figure in the sky blue glow.

The light went just as soon as Helga got close enough to see that it truly was the Queen and Ser Ren. Helga crouched down to see both his friends unconscious.

Queen Ezra sat leaning on the rough cave wall with Milo’s legs draped over his own and Milo’s head on his shoulder. The crying came from a lump in a coat the Queen had not wearing when last Helga saw him; and sure enough, a blue baby laid bundled in… _‘Is that Milo’s coat? What in the infinite hells happened here!?’_ Milo wasn’t wearing the clothes he left in either.

“Milo, what is the meaning of this?” Helga asked shaking his friend. But his friend groaned and flopped about, limp. “Your Grace, what happened?” Helga gave the same treatment to the Queen but got just the same as Milo. The pitiful crying from the lump dissolved into whining.

“I brought Doctor Strauss.” Tuin crouched next to them.

Doctor Strauss appeared out of the gloom, a pink glow in one hand and a leather bag in the other.

“Get out of the way.” Doctor Strauss gestured with his bag for them to move.

Helga and Tuin reluctantly moved to the side.

The good doctor crouched down and carefully extracted the whimpering babe from the Queen’s still arms. The Queen groaned at the lost. “Dammit Milo.” Strauss commented upon seeing that the infant had been separated from their mother. A good twelve inches of sloppily pinched umbilical hung from the infant’s belly as the doctor examined them. “The babe is in good health. More cool to the touch than I would like, but a warm environment will remedy that. Here, Helga.” Doctor Strauss handed the babe to the large father of seven. Helga rewrapped the child with great care, noting the blue complexions and yellow eyes with long black eye lashes. Even newly born, Helga could see much of the Queen in the babe. The thick raven black hair that would eventually cover the babe’s head, the round cheeks and pointed chin. But there were aspects that were not the Queen’s like the thin but sharply pointed ears and short fingers that must belong to their father. _‘Only time and growth will tell,’_ Helga decided.

“Will the Queen be okay, Doctor?” Tuin asked timidly.

“Not if His Grace stays out here much longer. I can see the beginnings of frost bite of his fingers and ears. There seems to be no evidence of a hard birth. I suspect cold and exhaustion has done our Queen in.” Doctor Strauss finished checking Ezra’s pulse and moved onto Milo. “Pandule! Our Queen needs on that sled, and warm blankets! Cuddle the Queen if you must.”

Pandule, the doctor’s carrot-haired assistant crouched to carry the Queen bridal style. As he did, Milo muttered something akin to “No. Don’t,” before Doctor Strauss took him by the shoulders so Ser Ren would not fall on his face.

Strauss checked Milo’s pulse and muttered something in confusion, pulled back Milo’s – or who’s ever coat it was – back and gasped.

“Helga, give Tuin the baby.” Doctor Strauss demanded in a tone that warranted no argument.

“I can’t-” Tuin protested taking a step back and holding her palms up.

“What is it Doctor?” Helga asked gently handing the Prince to Tuin. Tuin protested the whole time Helga maneuvered the babe into the squire’s arms.

“Have you been to this land’s capital city before, Helga?” Doctor Strauss asked.

“Yes, I have a cousin who lives-”

“Milo needs emergency care. Now. Take a hippogryph and fly out there. There’s no time.”

“But the Queen-“

“Is fine. Exhausted and cold, but in no real danger now that we are here. Go!” Doctor Strauss yelled, pointing to the mouth of the cave.

Helga nodded once and picked up Milo. Ser Vaw could then see the reason for such haste. Milo’s visible azure skin was webbed with black veins. _‘Poison!’_ The poison had not reached his face, but the black seemed to grow with every beat of Milo’s heart.

“No… My Queen.” Milo croaked, breaths labored.

“Our Queen is well, my friend. You are not, be still lest the poison consume you.” Helga panted as he carried Milo to his own black feathered hippogryph. The gryph had no saddle, but it did not matter to Helga, there was no time and Ser Vaw had plenty of practice riding bare backed.

Milo made a pained cry when Helga forced Milo onto the creature; Helga spotted why. On Milo’s left thigh, there was a jagged tear in the pant leg with dark red congealed blood and pink frost coating the last three inches of thigh. Helga pried the tear apart, getting a sad whimper from his friend, the cut was only two inches across but it looked deep and the poison had widened the wound to show blackened muscle. The cold had done Milo good, blood seeped slowly and may have slowed the poison circulating through his blood system.

Helga hopped behind him and dug his heels in his mount. “Ass…assin…s...” Milo forced out, head lolling of Helga’s shoulder.

“Is that who those poor naked bodies were?” Helga held tight to Milo as they took to the air, steering his black hippogryph toward the white covered mountain twenty miles ahead. It will only take a few minutes on the air to get there, but Helga did not know how long his friend lay poisoned, nor the type of poison that inflected him. All he could do was hope the hospital knew.

They passed a hoard of small black dots, when they flew over Helga realized they were penguins.

Milo cried out. Helga held on tighter. _‘Another minute Milo, just hold on another minute.’_ “Tere…sa.” Milo hoarsely whispered. The black veins had reached his chin.

“Who?”

The mountain rose before them, white and imposing. Black holes covered the surface, caves and inlets that hid and protected the dozens of entrances to the underground capital city. One was large enough for a flying creature, so Helga steered toward that.

Stormcloud landed hard, but Helga had no time to apologize to the beast. There were people crowded at the entrance of the cave, “Please! I need transport to the nearest hospital! My friend has been stabbed and poisoned!” Helga cried to the people gathered.

“This way Ser Vaw, Abika called ahead, we have transport for you ready.” A dark pink Gaean with no tail answered, shoving bystanders away on her way to them.

“I thank you.” Helga bowed his head and followed the stranger into the cave.

Everything happened quickly after that. The next thing Helga knew, Milo was rushed away to the hospital while the dark pink Gaean asked him questions.

“What was he poisoned with?”

“I don’t know, we found him and the Queen-”

“The Queen! Is he alright?”

“Yes, yes, Dr. Strauss said the Queen is only exhausted from the birth and may be a little hypothermic, but otherwise well as can be, given the situation.” Helga ran a hand through his hair before continuing, “Milo was stabbed in the leg, I assume while fighting the dead people at the front of the cave we found them at. The poison must have come from that.”

“Mm, that does us no good right now, without the knowledge of the poison used, I’m afraid Ser Ren has little time.” She shook her head. “I must see to others arriving, I trust you will be alright Sir Vaw?”

“Yes, I thank you, young one.” Helga found a bench and sat wondering if his dear friend would survive the night.

 _‘Milo may still survive… he is strong.’_ Helga rubbed his face. Milo was also kind and patient. Any Queen’s Guard had to be to deal with the Queen’s temperaments. Milo would never leave the Queen like this. Though dying for the Queen’s safety was an honor, an _honor_ every palace guard scoffed at – including Milo.

 _‘That poison…’_ Helga stood and paced. _‘The black veins that covered his skin…’_ Helga had a feeling he knew what the poison was, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put a finger on the name. _‘It was made from an ocean creature, I know this…’_

He sat back down defeated, the memory just wouldn’t come to him.

Helga remembered the first time he met Milo, Mei, or was it Marko? It was common practice for a Gaean to change their name every once in a while, and the Captain of the Guard was no exception. Helga had thought less of the elder, so stuck to the Queen, Prince then, like glue. And when Milo was sent away because Queen Ezekiel went into one his famous tempers, Helga understood why Milo was so close. He was a barrier, he helped Ezra deal with the world. Most importantly, he was Ezra’s _friend_. Ezekiel never let Ezra play with anyone lower born, and to a Prince, everyone was low born.

It was sad. Ezra was a very sad child. Cut off from his own twin who was presumed dead or worse. A neglectful grandfather, and a mother that was never there. Milo was his only friendly social contact that didn’t involve stuffy uptight nobles that where only nice to him because he was their future Queen.

This was all before Helga formally met either of them, before he decided to help protect the Prince. _‘How long ago was that Milo? When I was in the academy and you came to teach for a while? Four hundred and thirty, just about? Ack, how time flies.’_

Milo had over nine hundred years on him, but never treated him as a child.

“Ser Vaw? Is that you?” Tuin’s voice brought Helga from his reverie.

“Tuin,” Helga let it hang, he had no idea how long he sat there brooding.

“Ser Ren, will he be alright?”

“I don’t know. If we knew the poison, then perhaps…” Helga leaned back.

“Will this help? I meant to give it to you, but you were already miles away by the time I found it.” Tuin held up a plain dagger to Helga. The blade seemed to match the stab in Milo’s leg.

“Yes! Yes! This will help greatly! Quickly, we must find the hospital!” Helga jumped off the bench.

“We’re headed there now, I can take it.” Doctor Strauss said wheeling a bed that had the Queen and infant on it. The Queen was no longer wearing the winter gear they had found him in and the babe was properly swaddled in clean linen.

“Milo? Is he okay?” Queen Ezra mumbled. He was awake, but barely.

“No, your Grace, the assassin used poison and the doctors don’t know which one...” Tuin said.

“Give me the knife, I’ll get it to him.” Ezra sat up with shaking arms.

“Absolutely now! Let someone else-” Doctor Strauss begged.

“Helga, hold my baby a while.” Ezra sat up fully, handing the moving bundle to the guard.

“Your majesty!” Doctor Strauss yelled, “You can’t you’re not well-”

“Oh shut up will you. I gave birth, I’m not infirm.” Ezra stood on wobbling legs.

“What room is my dear Milo in?” the Queen asked yanking the dagger from Tuin’s hand.

“They did not say, Ezra please, I can run over and-”

“Milo has little time, it’s fine, I found him.”

And with that the Queen was gone.

Doctor Strauss groaned in exasperation, “Guess I won’t be needing this anymore.” He pushed the wheeled bed to the side, “Let’s get the Prince back to the Queen.” Strauss pulled out a communicator to summon a transport.

“Whoa.” Tuin gasped when the Queen vanished. “What- where did he go?”

Helga smiled and Tuin’s wonder. “He teleported. It’s been an Anayan blood gift since the Queen of Fire.” _‘Or was it the Blood Queen? Kin killer? Probably all of the above.’_

“But isn’t teleporting supposed to leave a trace? Like smoke or a sound or… something.” Tuin asked falling beside Ser Vaw as they waited for a ride to the hospital.

“Normally yes. If _you_ teleported, it would be with use of a spell of some sort, and that takes preparation, time, and energy. With the Queen and his blood, it takes only a thought and very little energy. It leaves no trace, no signal. Much like a blink.” The Prince began to cry.

“My, my you are a fuss aren’t you?” Helga bounced the baby.

Their ride came in the form of a small motor vehicle. They piled in.

“I’m still confused, how did the Queen ‘find’ Ser Ren?” Tuin kicked her legs.

“By sensing his energy signature, our Queen was able to teleport directly to him. They’ve been close for so long, it only takes a thought to get to him.” Helga said.

“That’s amazing Ser Vaw. Does your blood have an innate ability?” Tuin asked.

“No. Not that I’m aware of. Most people don’t have something like the Queen or Dr. Strauss has.”

“What do you have Doctor?”

“Healing. There’s a reason everyone in my bloodline is a healer of some sort. When I heal, it has no consequences. If I mend a broken bone, my energy isn’t depleted nor the life force of the patient. I cannot however, bring someone back from the dead. The brink perhaps, but not from death.” Abika Strauss explained. “Any innate abilities yourself young one?”

“I can move things by putting energy around objects. Like an entry level levitation spell. I never needed to learn it, I just did it.” Tuin shrugged, she never thought her ability special being that every child over age five learned that spell in school or at home. It was easy and didn’t take too much concentration, but the words and intent had to be learned. Tuin just did it one day, no problem.

“Doctor… if you can heal, why didn’t you heal Ser Ren?” Tuin asked quietly.

“Poison is… tricky. It’s a thing of nature and cannot be undone like a stab wound or a broken bone. Nature is hard to heal, it’s the reason cancer still exists in our world. It’s the reason disease and viruses are still killers. Poisons can be healed, but it takes a great deal of effort as one needs to illuminate the _source_ of such destruction. The source is an alien to the body much like bacteria and viruses, to eliminate the source runs a risk of eliminating other like-forces within the body. The bacteria in your body that helps with everyday function could be destroyed with the bacteria that causes one to have liquid fecal matter to the point of death as I used my ability to heal you of such a sickness.” Abika took a breath. “Do you understand?”

“Your powers already defy the laws of the Great Mother as is, so it comes with limitations?” Tuin tried.

“Something like that.” Doctor Strauss nodded.

It got quiet in the transport. Tuin was left to gaze out the tinted windows even though there wasn’t much to see but grey carved rock. They’d entered into one of the dozens of tunnels that lead deeper into the mountain range. The tunnels were lit with pale orange lights embedded into the seams where the walls met roof, casting ominous shadows in the pitch darkness. Abika Strauss had turned on the overhead light digging for something in his bag – a tablet, and began typing away. Helga held the finally quiet Prince.

It always amazed him how damn _small_ a newborn could be. Each one of his children came out looking almost exactly like the Prince. Small, wrinkled, and full of life energy. The little Prince was different from his children by the way her face scrunched at every passing light and fussed with every movement. _‘Ezra will have his hands full with this one, that’s for sure.’_ Not hours old and already the Prince seemed angry and bitter at the world. _‘Perhaps it’s because that was how the Queen had been feeling this past year?’_ Helga mused.

 _‘Hopefully the Prince won’t have any problems developing emotionally.’_ Helga thought gazing out the window in time for a tunnel change. This time the lights were a pale green. Baby Prince seemed to like the lighting better as she stopped fussing. With the baby settled down for once, Helga was able to go back into thinking. He knew the Queen had troubles expression the proper emotions for any given situation, but with guidance and therapy Ezra had gotten so much better than from when he was a child. At least according to Milo. Interpreting hidden emotional queues was still a social weak point for the Queen. _‘Let’s hope you do not suffer the same turmoil.’_ Helga thought to the Prince.

“Ugh, what’s that _smell_?” Tuin’s face scrunched horrifically. She pulled the collar of her sweater up to cover her face. “That’s _foul_.”

“Even Prince’s shit, young one.” Doctor Strauss said, calmly pressing a button to lower the window on his side.

“Is there a diaper and some wipes in your bag Doctor?” Helga asked maneuvering the Prince on the seat so he could change her.

“No, our Prince will just have to suffer till we get to our destination.” Strauss waved his hand as if the problem would go away at the action then started typing again. “Just ensure the cord doesn’t get caught in the mess.”

Helga unfolded the blankets to make sure the too-long cord wasn’t sitting in baby poop. Tuin gagged when the source of the awful smell became exposed. The cold air hit the Prince and she began to wail.

“Hush you.” Helga warned using the dirty blanket to wipe what he could off the Prince. He then re-wrapped her the best he could. His paternal instincts did not like wrapping a baby in soiled cloth, but they were woefully unprepared for her arrival and for that, a soiled cloth would have to be some sort of cosmic punishment for them all.

“Are we there yet?” Tuin had opened her own window so inside the transport had gotten chilly, though the air became warmer by the mile.

“Yes, this is the hospital they took that palace guard to,” said their driver. Their driver had not said a word nor seemed to notice their presence the whole ride.

“How can you be sure?” Tuin asked leaning out the window to get a look at the surroundings as the transport slowed to a stop.

“It’s the only hospital.” The driver said.

“Oh.”

Helga laughed as he carefully climbed out. Doctor Strauss hid a smile as he paid their driver.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any more questions dont be afraid to ask! my tumblr is menstralcycling and i have a writing tag that explains some more of this stuff.
> 
> Let me know what you think! please! this first chapter is more of a test to see if anyone will actually like it. I've been working on these guys for YEARS and only now started writing their stories.


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